


Banishing Monsters

by darkrose



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Blood Magic, M/M, Magic, PWP, hot springs episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrose/pseuds/darkrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathaniel and his Commander both have their own monsters to fight, not just the darkspawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banishing Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lovely and talented [Dragonreine](http://dragonreine.deviantart.com/) for the 2011 [Sugar](http://thedas-ficarchive.dreamwidth.org/tag/valentine%27s+day+master+list+%28sugar%29) and [Spice](http://thedas-ficarchive.dreamwidth.org/tag/valentine%27s+day+master+list+%28spice%29) exchange.

Nathaniel hadn't really expected the Commander of the Grey to be ten feet tall with lightning shooting out of his eyes, but he hadn't expected him to be a mage either--although then the lightning would make sense--or an elf. Nor had Nathaniel expected the Commander to show mercy, of a sort, to a man who'd confessed to plotting his murder.

The last thing in the world he'd expected was to find the Commander attractive.

During his time in the Free Marches, Nathaniel had tried as hard as he could to stifle the longings that had gotten him sent away in the first place. Surely, he'd thought, if he could convince his father that he no longer desired other men, that he was _normal_ , he'd be allowed to return home.

Of course, nothing had gone according to plan. He'd come back to Ferelden to find his father dead, his family disgraced, and his home occupied by Orlesians from the same order that had murdered Rendon Howe. There would be no chance to prove himself to his father now, to show that he was worthy of the family name, such as it was. And he couldn't stop thinking about his commander, who treated him with the same cool, unruffled politeness that he gave to Oghren's drunken ramblings and Anders' incessant prattle.

When Velanna joined their party, Nathaniel tried to transfer his burgeoning affection to her. It didn't work; the only thing she and the Commander had in common was the points on their ears. Her skin was pale, not golden brown, her hair blonde instead of silver. The tattoos on her face were graceful, curving lines, not sharp and angular like the ones he wanted to trace with his tongue. She didn't have a heavy Orlesian accent, and the robes she wore made it undeniable that she was female. None of it was what--who--he really wanted.

Nathaniel resigned himself to frustrated silence. Lucien was his commander, and no doubt would find anything other than simple friendship to be inappropriate. And besides, he'd never given the slightest hint that he had a preference for men at all, much less a human who must surely seem bulky and clumsy to an elf.

Then the peasants rioted.

Lucien's attempts to reason with them had no chance of succeeding, not with their resentment at having "an Orlesian knife-eared savage" for their arl adding to their fear of starvation. Finally, Lucien ordered Garavel to pull his soldiers back. Then he raised his hands, palms down, and made a twisting gesture, and the earth shook.

Nathaniel lifted his bow along with the Keep's archers, and fired. At first he tried shooting to injure, not kill, but with the screaming, panicked crowd in the midst of a localized earthquake, aiming was impossible. When the ground settled, a dozen peasants lay dead in the courtyard; the rest were trampling each other to get to the gates.

Things didn't improve inside, where assassins lurked behind pillars and a group of armed nobles, led by Esmerelle, invoked Rendon Howe's name before they attacked. From the other side of the hall, Nathaniel saw Lucien narrow his eyes.

"Get back, all of you!" he shouted. Nathaniel couldn't see what happened next, but he heard Lucien intoning the syllables of a chant. That spell always made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and with good reason. He'd asked Lucien once what the spell did, and the response had been short, and chilling.

"It boils an enemy's blood in their veins," the Commander had told him matter-of-factly.

Now, as Nathaniel watched, the nobles and assassins were frozen in place, faces contorted in pain and unable to even scream. Then Lucien raised his staff and spoke a single, sharp word.

Bolts of lighting crackled, so bright that Nathaniel had to close his eyes. When it was done, all that remained of the rebellious nobles was a fine patina of ash on the floor.

Lucien turned to Varel, the glitter of a healing spell on his hand, and Nathaniel saw the seneschal flinch. The Commander lowered his hand and let the spell dissipate.

"Anders, see to him," he said as he walked out of the hall.

That evening, Nathaniel found Lucien sitting cross-legged on one of the battlements. Andruil, the mabari that had once belonged to Adria, had her massive head in his lap, and Lucien petted her absently as he stared up into the rain.

"Commander?" Nathaniel said from a safe distance away. When there was no response, he tried, "Lucien?"

Lucien turned, and didn't blast him with a spell, which Nathaniel took as a good sign. "I--we--hadn't seen you, and we were worried."

"Afraid I'd gone and turned the rest of the way into an abomination?" Lucien said dryly.

That was a surprisingly easy question to answer. "No," Nathaniel told him. "I've never worried about that."

Lucien snorted. "You must be the only one, then."

There was a long, awkward silence. Finally Lucien sighed. "When I learned blood magic, I swore that I would only use it against the darkspawn. I've kept that vow for twelve years, until today."

Nathaniel cast about for something to say when suddenly, inspiration struck. "I know what you need," he said. "Come with me."

Lucien might have arched an eyebrow--it was hard to tell with his tattoos--but he stood up, patted Andruil before sending her off to get her dinner, and followed Nathaniel down to the cellars.

Rendon Howe had placed a heavy bookcase in front of the hidden door, but Nathaniel wasn't a child any longer, and with Lucien's help, he moved it aside and pulled the lever to open the door. He set a torch into the bracket on the wall. The spacious cavern was the same as he remembered, all smooth stone, steam, and the faint scent of sulfur.

"What is this?" Lucien asked, staring around the cavern.

"I'm not entirely sure," Nathaniel told him. "I found it when I was a child, and I used to come here when I wanted to be alone...or I did until my sister and brother found out about it, and my mother convinced my father to block it off."

Lucien ran a hand over one of the patterns carved into the stone. "This looks Avvar, like the shrine we found," he murmured, "Perhaps they used this for some ritual purpose? Fascinating...." He knelt down by the larger of the two hot springs and dipped a finger into the water.

"It's safe, I think," Nathaniel said. "I tried swimming in it once; it wasn't big enough, but I didn't experience any ill effects from the water--"

He broke off abruptly when he realized that Lucien had propped his staff against the wall and was in the process of pulling his robes over his head. With a pleased-sounding sigh, the elf slid into the pool.

"You are brilliant, _mon ami_ ," he told Nathaniel. " _C'est magnifique_."

Nathaniel edged back, toward the door. "I'm glad; you seemed like you needed a moment away from everything."

Lucien's green eyes glittered, catlike, as he turned toward Nathaniel. "You won't join me?"

"I...er...."

"Nathaniel." His voice was amused, and was it Nathaniel's imagination or was his accent even more pronounced? "I have seen you look at me, but I cannot tell why you hold back; if it is that I am Orlesian, or an elf, or a mage."

"No, it's not that!" Nathaniel assured him. "I don't--it's definitely not any of those, I swear. You're my commander, and...I wasn't sure if you even liked other men...."

Lucien chuckled. "Ah, yes, I was told that Fereldens were not always open about such matters. Let me assure you, then, that I do indeed enjoy the company of men. As for being your commander... Grey Wardens tend to take a more liberal view of such things than most armies do. Our tainted blood already binds us together, so...." He shrugged.

Nathaniel hesitated for a moment, just long enough to see a hint of disappointment, and something that might have been fear, in Lucien's expression. Whatever it was, it made Nathaniel's decision simple. He stripped out of his tunic and breeches--blushing a little at Lucien's frank appraisal of him--and stepped carefully into the pool.

"Thank you. I do appreciate the company." Lucien reached up and undid the long braids at his temples, shaking his hair loose in a fall of silver. Nathaniel itched to run his fingers through it, but instead he unbraided his own hair. He glanced over and saw Lucien watching him, his expression almost hungry. That struck Nathaniel as a little odd; he was well aware that he looked like...well, like a Howe. It was hard to believe that his beautiful, graceful commander could find him attractive.

"Mmm...this is wonderful," Lucien murmured after a few moments. His eyes were closed, but his expression was relaxed and unguarded. "When I lived among the Dalish, one of our camps was near a hot spring such as this."

"But you're not Dalish, are you?" Nathaniel winced as soon as he'd said it. "I'm sorry; that was probably rude."

Lucien shrugged. "Why? Most see my face and assume, but you asked....no, I was not born Dalish. I lived with them for a time, after I fled the Circle, only to find that I was no more at home among them than in a tower full of humans. It was not until Riordan conscripted me that I finally found a place where the only thing that mattered was that I had the strength to survive the Joining and the will and ability to spend the rest of my life battling the darkspawn."

He turned to Nathaniel, his smile a little twisted. "And now I have turned melancholy. Forgive my rambling, _mon ami_."

With his Commander in an unusually talkative mood, Nathaniel had to ask the question that had bothered him since they'd met. "I don't mean to pry, but I've wondered....why did the Wardens send you here?"

"You mean why did they send an elven mage as the Orlesian to take charge of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden?" Lucien snorted. "I have wondered the same. Perhaps the First Warden felt that an elf would be seen as less threatening than a human from Orlais? Or, more likely, the Empress suggested me, because I was the most expendable of the remaining senior Wardens. If I fail, then only the Wardens are harmed; Orlesian prestige does not suffer."

"I know about being expendable," Nathaniel said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "My father sent me to the Free Marches because he caught me kissing one of the servants. One of the male servants."

"Ah...your attraction to men disturbed him?"

Nathaniel stared down at his hands, trying not to hear the pretty elven boy's screams or the sound of the heavy whip falling again and again, until finally, there was only silence.

"He killed him--the servant--and told me that...that I was weak, and not worthy to be his son, much less his heir, because I wouldn't do it myself, and I wouldn't watch."

Lucien scooted closer and took Nathaniel's face in his hands, forcing him to meet clear green eyes. "You are not responsible for your father's cruelty," he said, "and that he was a monster does not make you one." He leaned in and kissed Nathaniel.

It was easy to yield to the kiss, to let Lucien plunder his mouth. He bit Nathaniel's lips and sucked hard on his tongue as though he wanted to devour the other Warden. He pulled his mouth away just long enough to move down to Nathaniel's neck, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. All Nathaniel could do--all he wanted to do--was tilt his head back to give Lucien better access.

Lucien lifted his head and looked up at Nathaniel. "I am sorry, _mon cher_. I should not push so. If this is not--"

Nathaniel silenced him with another kiss. Lucien hummed appreciatively into his mouth.

He wasn't entirely sure how he ended up stretched out on his back next to the pool, his shirt rolled up and tucked under his head to serve as a pillow as the Commander of the Grey sucked his cock more skillfully than any whore Nathaniel had ever been with. Lucien licked along the underside of Nathaniel's shaft while lightly scraping his balls with sharp fingernails. Nathaniel moaned and tried to lift his hips, but Lucien traced a pattern on his skin, and suddenly, Nathaniel couldn't move.

For a moment, he nearly panicked, certain that Lucien had used blood magic on him, but the mage kissed the tip of Nathaniel's prick and stroked his stomach gently. "Shh, _mon cher_. I would never use my magic to harm you. This is simply so that you will relax and let me pleasure you." He grinned, the expression startling on someone normally so reserved. "And, of course, to ensure that you remember who commands here."

Nathaniel tried to laugh, but no sound came out. "I suppose I should mention that you will be unable to move, or speak, or come until I release the spell." He took the head of Nathaniel's cock into his mouth again and sucked hard.

It was wonderful and agonizing. Nathaniel wanted to groan, or squirm, or grab Lucien's head, or _something_ to show that he was enjoying it, but all he could do was _feel_ the delicious wet heat and the rasp of Lucien's clever tongue. The pressure built until he was sure he was going to explode. Finally, he felt the tingle of magic as Lucien dispelled the glyph, and Nathaniel was free to move, gasping and shuddering as he spilled into his commander's mouth.

" _C'était très bon,_ " Lucien said, looking pleased. Nathaniel sat up and slipped his arms around the elf's waist and kissed him, tasting himself on Lucien's tongue. He started to shift position so he could return the favor, but to his surprise, Lucien shook his head.

" _Non, mon ami,_ " he said, his expression suddenly uncertain. "I...if you would just touch me, let me feel your hands. I need to be reminded...."

"Reminded? Of what?"

"That I am not... a monster." Lucien bit his bottom lip and looked down. Nathaniel was struck by how young he looked, certainly not old enough to carry the burden of command in a foreign country.

He pulled Lucien close. "You're not a monster. I was there, after all; I saw you try to talk the farmers down. And Varel was right: they didn't come up with that on their own. You've been good to them, sending soldiers to guard their farms and showing mercy to men like that Alec fellow. The only reason for them to revolt was because they were pushed to it."

Slowly, Lucien nodded. "The nobles, though...."

"They tried to kill you. Trust me, if you hadn't... done what you did, they'd just come after you again. And...." Nathaniel took a deep breath. "My father would have killed them. Then he'd have gone after their families, and killed them, and their servants as well, just to make sure the point got across. You're a good man in an impossible situation. _He_ was a monster." It felt surprisingly good to say it out loud.

"If you just want me to touch you, then that's what I'll do," he told Lucien, "but not because I think you're--" he caught himself before saying _not human_ , "--an abomination."

He tilted his head so he could lick along the curve of one pointed ear, nibbling gently on the tip. He stopped the instant Lucien hissed through his teeth, and the elf frowned.

"Well?" he demanded.

Nathaniel chuckled. "Forgive me, Commander. I'll get back to work immediately."

He took his time exploring Lucien's body, running his hands over golden skin and stroking the lines of the tattoos that wound around his arms and trailed down his oddly hairless chest. Lucien squirmed as Nathaniel caressed him, muttering a string of what sounded like truly vile Orlesian curses, and ran his fingernails over any part of Nathaniel that he could reach.

"Commander or not, since I'm no mage, I suppose I'll have to tie you down next time to get you to stay still." It was apparently the right thing to say, because Lucien moaned and clawed at him.

Nathaniel wrapped a hand around the elf's cock--which, contrary to rumor, was of a perfectly reasonable size--and stroked him with a slow, deliberate rhythm. When Lucien growled, " _Plus rapidement,_ " Nathaniel pretended that he had no idea his commander was telling him to go faster and continued his steady pace. Finally, when Lucien began to whimper, Nathaniel took pity on him and increased speed and pressure until he heard the elf cry out and felt a hot splash of fluid on his hand.

Nathaniel started to lick his hand, but Lucien grabbed his wrist and sucked two fingers into his mouth, ran his tongue over them just as he'd done with Nathaniel's cock earlier. To his surprise, Nathaniel felt himself getting hard again.

Lucien chuckled. "Ah, there are few benefits to being a Grey Warden, _mon ami_ , and this is one of them. However, I would prefer to take advantage of it in the comfort of a bed, _oui_?"

"The stone isn't exactly comfortable, I have to admit." He stepped out of the pool, stopping when Lucien took his arm in a surprisingly strong grip.

" _Merci beaucoup, mon cher,_ " he said, placing a kiss in the center of each of Nathaniel's palms. "You have been good to me, and it is appreciated." He squeezed Nathaniel's hands once more before turning away to dress himself.

"It's the least I can do," Nathaniel told him, grabbing his shirt and trousers, "considering that you spared my life and gave me a chance to prove that not all Howes are--"

"Monsters?" Lucien straightened his robes, picked up his staff and smiled at Nathaniel.

Nathaniel bent down and kissed his commander. "Exactly."


End file.
